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Deana Luna
Poems
Nov 2014
tacit
the first time you said ‘they’
the way my tongue tickles with the taste of you, rough against my mouth. cheeks. ***** hair indian burning my chin.
i am stained in your sweet juices. nectar of the stars.
does he know that he is art?
Written by
Deana Luna
Seattle, WA
(Seattle, WA)
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